


sour but i think i like it

by teandfailure



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Boot Worship, Bottom Roy Mustang, Leashes, M/M, Messy, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Spanking, Top Edward Elric, Trans Edward Elric, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teandfailure/pseuds/teandfailure
Summary: “you’re stressed,” ed continues, “and you’re a busy guy, i get that, but by my calculations you’ve got like, one more quarterly evaluation left in you before you have a complete meltdown in the middle of your office, the ice is that fucking thin. you’re embarrassed to come to me and ask me for a kinky favor — and i get that, swear to god i do — so i came to you.”
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 8
Kudos: 134





	sour but i think i like it

**Author's Note:**

> on this trans day of visibility, i, a humble enby, present you with more trans ed porn, bc the pandemic needed that. leaving the door open to write more in this verse because i had a lot of fun writing top!ed.

“you know you can come to me when you need this, don’t you?” ed says in lieu of a greeting, and roy lets the door fall shut behind him. 

ed is sitting on roy’s couch like he goddamn owns the place, arms crossed over his chest like he’s terribly unimpressed with roy’s cookie-cutter one bedroom. he has his legs propped up on roy’s coffee table, ankles crossed, boot treads glinting in the dim light, and he’s wearing yet another pair of obscenely tight pants, hugging his thighs far tighter than polite society should allow. his braid snakes tightly over his right shoulder, long enough that the tail rests against his chest. 

ed does not have a key to roy’s house, so he must have alchemized the door open — and alchemized it locked again behind himself, ever the gentleman — but he’s certainly made himself comfortable here. this had become something of a _thing_ lately; they hadn’t made plans or anything, but to say roy was surprised to arrive home and find edward in his home waiting for him would have been inaccurate.

“good evening,” roy says finally. “i don’t suppose i can offer you some tea?” 

“you sounded like shit on the phone earlier,” ed says, as if that’s an observation instead of an insult, as if he hadn’t heard what roy said. “you never let anything show until it’s really getting bad. how long’s it been since you got any real sleep?”

it’s chilling, the way ed sees through him, the way ed casually wields observations no one has ever made to him before. for all that ed could be incredibly tone-deaf, he was also quite perceptive when he wanted to be, and evidently he’d been paying attention to roy for quite a while, even if he was good at keeping it secret. “a couple of days,” roy admits, “but-” 

“you’re stressed,” ed continues, “and you’re a busy guy, i get that, but by my calculations you’ve got like, one more quarterly evaluation left in you before you have a complete meltdown in the middle of your office, the ice is that fucking thin. you’re embarrassed to come to me and ask me for a kinky favor — and i get that, swear to god i do — so i came to you.” 

roy has to say it; ed will probably laugh at him, but he cannot allow room for that kind of ambiguity, not with something like this, not with ed of all people. “you know that you’re under no obligation, personal or professional, to be providing me these — _ahem_ — favors.” 

ed snorts. “the military couldn’t compel me to fuck somebody even if they goddamn court-martialed me,” he says easily. “i’m just a fellow freak trying to help you out, alright? it doesn’t have to be anything more than that.” 

“right,” roy says dizzily. 

ed’s giving him a look. “i already did all the hard work for you,” he says. “all you have to do is get on your knees.”

for a moment, roy takes pause, takes stock of the ache in his shoulders and the tightness in his chest, and debates saying no. he knows that he could, and ed would respect that, and he’d still meet roy’s eyes the next time they saw each other. 

then he thinks about what it feels like when ed touches him, spanks him, slaps him across the face — the sparking skin on skin contact mixed with waves of stinging pain to take the edge off — and he’s falling to his knees on the hardwood floor, uniform be damned. 

“good boy,” ed says.

roy hates how much the praise affects him, hates the way he feels his dick jump in his pants in response to ed’s voice speaking to him like that. “how do you want me?” he asks. 

“collar first,” ed says easily. “reminds you that i’m the one who takes care of you.”

roy nods, feels himself shiver at the thought of ed’s hands fastening his collar around his neck, the visual signifier of he and ed’s relationship, whatever the details of that relationship may be.

it was strangely intimate, having ed in his home like this; they were something between old war buddies and friends with benefits, these days, with their shared history weaving their lives together and a series of poor choices that ensured they’d keep stepping on each other's toes for years after the promised day. ed had grown into a man when roy wasn’t looking, and roy was consumed by him, by the shape of his jaw and the color of his hair and the ridges of his collarbones peeking out of his shirt. 

“get over here,” ed says, as though it should be obvious, and he spreads his legs further, nods pointedly toward the space between them. “crawl for me.” 

it’s only a few strides from where roy is kneeling to where ed is sitting, but it feels like ages as he forces himself to crawl, layers of uniform fabric shifting as he drags himself across the carpet. he doesn’t look up — isn’t sure he could if he wanted to — but thankfully ed doesn’t ask that of him tonight. 

ed’s hand brushes against the top of his head, something resembling a pet. “that was perfect,” he says. 

ed slips the collar around roy’s neck, and he holds his breath as ed’s fingers work the buckle, trace along the leather to make sure the skin isn’t pinching anywhere. it had been embarrassing, at first, how much he wanted this, but these days, roy felt like there wasn’t much room left for embarrassment in their relationship. it was refreshing to be able to be so honest about his needs. 

ed catches two fingers through the o-ring affixed to the front of ed’s collar and tugs, just once, to test how tight it is. “how’s that?”

“excellent,” roy says, his voice strained.

“rad,” ed responds. “now, i need you naked.” his hair was down, and it fell haphazardly in his face, a curtain of glimmering shades of gold; he was mesmerizing even simply brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “take your jacket off first,” he instructs.

roy shrugs out of his jacket without protesting, folds it halfheartedly and places it on the chair behind him. “shirt too?” he asks, already fidgeting with the buttons. 

“mmhmm,” ed hums. “but take your time with it. i wanna watch you.”

roy does his best to take his time, works his way out of his button-up and the cotton t-shirt underneath so ed can see him as he peels off each layer and adds the garments to his pile. ed looks him up and down with heavy eyes — lingers on the seashell ridges of roy’s ribs, the shape of his abdomen and the curve of his hips — and roy shivers under the weight of ed’s gaze. 

“that’s good,” ed says, and his voice is almost fond, soft and familiar in a way that aches deep in roy’s chest. “you can keep going like that.”

his hands feel slightly shakier as he sets to work on the calvary skirt, as he yanks his way out of his boots and socks before he can make himself look even more foolish. ed is still staring, watching roy’s body as he moves, muscles flexing in the low light, and roy is somewhere in the space between “embarrassed” and “unbearably turned on” as he fumbles with the ankles of his uniform pants and tries his damnedest not to think about what this must look like for ed. 

naked, back in position on his knees, he feels ashamed: ashamed of himself for wanting this, ashamed that ed is the one he comes to at times like these, that ed of all people was the one who understood this part of him better than anyone else ever could. worse still, it was the kind of shame that went straight to his dick, the kind of shame that kept him jerking off to the memory of ed’s hands on him. 

it had been an accident, the first time; a mistake the first few times, even, but at this point roy could hardly deny that he and ed had stumbled into a pattern that seemed to work well for both of them. 

“fuck, you’re pretty like that,” ed says, shaking him out of his thoughts. “i’m gonna put you on the leash, yeah?” 

ed continues to talk as he untangles the leash, speaks softly as he clips the chain to the front of roy’s collar. “love having you like this, all embarrassed and eager at the same time,” he says. “i can tell you need it.” 

roy doesn’t say anything — what is there to say, really? — but he gives a weak nod, and ed strokes his hair a couple of times in something like praise. “i know,” he says softly. “i’ve got you; don’t worry about it.” 

ed gestures for roy to stand up a moment, then he bends roy in half easily and pulls him onto his lap, ass presented, arms pillowed on the couch. he’s still holding the leash in one hand, and he uses his other one to trace the line of roy’s back, down onto his thighs and back again. 

“ready?” ed asks.

_“please,”_ he pleads. 

the smack clatters through the room, and roy moans with something that feels like relief. the spanking feels like putting aloe on a burn, like a soothing balm, and ed has barely gotten started. “again,” he says.

ed hits him again, harder this time, a smack along the spot where his thigh met his ass where the skin is thinner, and roy sees stars, chokes on his tongue it feel so good. he can feel himself starting to get hard against ed’s leg, can feel his ass stinging from the first few smacks. it’s like he gets a buzz from the endorphins. 

“i always forget how hard you like it,” ed says. 

“you can go harder,” roy says, muffled by the couch cushion.

ed laughs. “i know,” he says. “give me a minute to work up to black-and-blue, yeah?” 

he smacks down hard on the swell of his ass, roy’s left side and then his right, savors the soft noises roy makes under his hand, and keeps going. roy groans at the next spank, a heavy, thuddy smack that cuts right through him, and ed hums as he drags his hand over the sensitive skin, nails catching. roy’s getting goosebumps. “you’ll tell me if you need to stop, right?” 

“of course,” roy says. he would tell ed to stop, he thinks, if it ever came to that, but it’s hard to imagine a challenge from ed he wouldn’t tackle head on, hard to fathom a kind of pain he wouldn’t welcome from ed’s hand. 

they settle into a rhythm after that, ed’s hand on roy’s ass spanking him at a brutal pace, all along the meat of his ass and down onto the tops of his thighs, the leash jangling in ed’s other hand. the spots where the skin is thinner hurt the most, and ed knows that — loves nothing more than to leave roy with mottled bruises that throb every time he sits down the next day — and he seems to know roy’s really aching for it tonight too, because he focuses on the tender skin, watches roy’s skin turn from pink to red beneath his hand. 

it’s so good roy moans without meaning to, without realizing he’s doing it, and ed hums in agreement. “that’s what i like to hear.” 

“i’m sorry-” roy bites. 

“are you listening?” ed responds, and somehow he still sounds fond, even snipping like this. “as loud as you need to be, alright?” 

he hits roy again, a hard slap overlapping a few of the most tender spots, and roy cries out, a groan that catches at the back of his throat. ed hums his approval and smacks him again, a shade lower than before, then again, watches the splotchy colors change on roy’s ass, white pale to pink to red to white again.

ed trails a finger up between his ass cheeks, just the barest hint of suggestion, but roy feels his cock throb at the implication anyway. the sting from the spanking feels good, like it’s soothing an ache. “so hot like this,” ed says.

“please,” roy murmurs. “harder, please-”

ed hums, keeps one hand on roy’s back as he fidgets with his pants, unclasping the buckle of his belt. “i was thinking i could-” ed offers, cuts himself off as he pulls his belt free of his pants. “if you’re still wanting-”

_“fuck_ yes,” roy says.

“you really are a masochist,” ed muses. “you’ll take anything you can get, huh?”

roy scoffs at that, tries to formulate some sort of rebuttal through the thick fog of his arousal and the pain, and utterly, spectacularly fails. “please,” he says instead, dizzy and high on endorphins, an addict chasing his next hit. “please, ed, need your belt-”

“yeah you fuckin’ do,” ed grunts, fidgeting with his belt in his hands. “tell me how you need it, sweetheart.”

_“hard,”_ roy whines, and works his hips against ed’s lap in search of a little relief. “fuck, please- want your bruises-”

ed adjusts his grip again, and the metal of the belt buckle jangles as he gets comfortable. that’s all the warning roy gets before ed’s laying into him, painting stripes across his ass as he warms up. the belt hits harder than ed’s hand could — stings more, resonates deeper into his muscles — and it’s exhilarating at first, the rush of endorphins it brings, the way the pain and the high make it easier to drown out the darker parts of his inner monologue. 

“wish you could see yourself taking it,” ed comments, between blows. “you’re gorgeous like this.” 

he feels himself blush at the compliment, but ed doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on the task at hand. the belt is a heavy, solid leather and roy is sore in the best possible way, aching as his cock twitches against ed’s leg with every strike. he feels ed change the angle of impact, so the strokes land in the opposite direction of the first round of blooming welts, crisscrossing. on the third or fourth one, his concentration breaks, and he lets out a whimper when the belt thwacks against his thighs.

“that’s nice,” ed hums. “when you cry out because you can’t help it.”

“hurts,” roy bites.

“i know,” ed says, his voice flat, devoid of sympathy, and that stings too, in a different way. ed drags the belt over the tender skin, and roy feels himself getting goosebumps. “it’s too bad you like this.” 

ed isn’t wrong, but the shame twists in the pit of his stomach anyway, and thankfully ed hits him again before he’s able to stress too much about what he gets up to in his free time. the belt hits hard this time, and the pain cracks through him like a lightning strike. he cries out into the couch cushion. 

“how’s five more?” ed asks, and doesn’t wait for an answer. roy knows how to stop a scene if he needs to. 

the first stroke of the belt is lighter, almost playful, stinging humming from the abused skin as the leather cuts the air and smacks against him. the second is much more intense than the first, almost debilitating, on a tender section of his thigh where the skin is thin. roy wonders if he’ll be bruised after this, if ed will hit him hard enough to make him bleed.

“please,” he gasps, _“ed.”_

“three more,” ed replies, his voice softer this time. “i know you can do it for me.”

the praise makes his cock ache — his headspace is foggy, like he’s underwater, everything distant and smudged like dirty lenses — and ed is his anchor, ed’s belt and ed’s hands and ed’s voice guiding him through it all. when the belt cracks again, he chokes on a broken _“fuck”_ that gets caught in the back of his throat, can’t help the way his body writhes in search of relief. 

“i always feel like i’ve won when i make you swear,” ed says. “it’s a good look on you.” 

roy _whimpers_ at that; he’s finding words harder and harder to come by. “fuck, please,” he says, thin, broken. 

the belt lands hard again, a scant few inches from the strike before, and his skin screams, burns hot and throbs like a bass line just beneath the surface. roy doesn’t say anything, but it’s impossible to remain totally silent, and he gasps into the upholstery of the couch, presses his hips against ed’s thigh in a feeble attempt to take some of the pressure off his aching cock. 

“just one more,” ed says, his voice soft. it sits in contrast to the thwack of the belt, ringing out immediately afterward, hard and unforgiving and loud. the final blow is intense, the kind of pain that makes roy’s vision go white at the corners while his body tries to reconnect his senses, and he can feel, distantly, that he’s crying, but it feels so separate it’s as though it’s happening to someone else. the relief is there regardless of the tears; roy can feel the tension drain from his body, can feel that suddenly ed is holding him up. 

“knew you could do it for me,” ed says, and his voice is a practiced neutral, but it still feels like a warm blanket being wrapped around roy’s shoulders. he trails his hand up along the back of roy’s thigh onto his abused ass and up to the small of his back. “you take my belt like you were fuckin’ born for it.” 

ed tugs at the leash, and roy awakens out of his stupor to find ed’s hand on him, ed’s finger trailing up between his ass cheeks to tease at his entrance. his skin is cold, and roy feels himself shiver as ed presses his thumb to the sensitive skin there. “you were born for this too, weren’t you?” he continues. 

roy fumbles, “ed, i-”

“one day i’m just gonna open you up like this,” ed says, and doesn’t reprimand him for his lack of response. “stretch you so slowly you can just relax into it.”

_“god,_ ed,” he whines, and presses back against ed’s hand. “please, can you-”

he feels just the tip of ed’s thumb pressing into him, and even the slight pressure makes roy’s cock throb against ed’s leg. it’s hardly anything really, hardly any penetration, but it still leaves him aching for more. 

“is this what you want?” ed asks. 

“i want a good fuck,” he says, before anything resembling a filter can stop him. “more, the closer we can get to that.”

ed spits on his hole and smudges the mess with his thumb as his presses against the tight ring of muscle. roy moans as soon as he feels ed nudging inside him, a throaty cry deep in his chest that should be embarrassing, probably, but it mostly just makes him ache with wanting. he takes the intrusion of ed’s thumb easily, comfortably, with his legs spread for ed as best he’s able. 

“tonight’s not the night you get fucked,” ed says. “but i’m always happy to tease you a bit.”

ed presses deeper into him, and roy takes it without meaning to, without even trying. it’s a blessing as much as it is a curse, knowing it’s just a tease, knowing ed is only going to work him up and leave him hanging, but roy relaxes into ed’s touch anyway, hellbent on enjoying a good thing while it lasted. 

“you’re sure you can’t be persuaded?” roy asks, his voice rickety. he presses his hips back against ed’s hand, grinds against him as best he can given his current position and the lack of leverage. he does manage to take ed’s thumb a bit deeper, though, and roy permits himself to moan at the stretch, to let out a few shaky exhales as he wills his muscles to relax. 

“you’re doing a hell of a job,” ed says. “but i think you’re gonna like what i have planned.” 

“and what is that?” roy asks.

“get on your knees for me,” ed responds instead. “i’ll show you.”

roy scrambles, feels his knees nearly give out when he first tries to stand up; the hardwood beneath his knees is honestly a relief, because at least there he doesn’t have to go to war with his balance. 

ed adjusts the leash in his hand, tugs the chain taut so it pulls at roy’s neck and draws him in closer. roy ends up resting his head against the inside of ed’s leather-clad thigh. 

“you’re doing great,” ed hums, and strokes his fingers through a tangled section of roy’s hair. this close, it’s hard not to think about ed’s cock, tucked neatly away beneath layers of fabric but really only scant few inches from his face. “i think you’ve earned a little something, huh? a little friction?”

roy nods against ed’s leg, frantic at the thought of ed’s hand on his aching cock. “please, ed, i-”

ed is spreading his legs further, planting his feet like he’s some kind of royal taking his throne. “hump for me,” he says, and nods pointedly toward his right leg, toward his boot planted casually but firmly on roy’s living room floor.

_“fuck,”_ roy says, and he feels himself shiver when he understands what ed wants him to do. 

ed tugs at the leash, quick and insistent. “don’t have all day,” he barks.

roy positions himself carefully, as gingerly as possible as he tries to find a comfortable posture on his knees with one leg on either side of ed’s boot. he settles back with his weight on his heels and doesn’t hesitate to adjust himself, a handy excuse to get a hand around his cock, and works his hand up and down his shaft just once, twice. 

the relief hits him like a freight train. roy can hardly breath with it, it’s so much all at once: sparks in the pit of his stomach, fireworks behind his eyes, a tremor that wracks his entire frame. 

it’s completely, utterly unexpected when ed reaches out with a steady hand and slaps him across the face. 

it stings his face, but his cock is throbbing in a way that is decidedly not painful. the slap hurts, of course, but it’s hardly unwelcome, the way the pain tangles with the pleasure and leaves him feeling happy and sated, buzzed and eager for more. it’s precisely this kind of high that keeps him coming back to ed time and time again. 

“no hands,” ed snaps, and roy hears it distantly, as if he’s outside of his own body. “i know you can do it for me.”

roy folds his arms behind his back, forearm to forearm so he has something to hold onto, and tries to find his balance like that, with his cock hanging heavy between his legs, standing at attention. slowly, carefully, already starting to ache in his quads, he drags his cock against laces of ed’s boot. 

it feels better than he’d been expecting, and the noise he makes is accidental, a groan caught in the back of his throat. the friction is just this side of too much, and it makes roy slow down, focus his movements on grinding against ed’s boot instead of just rubbing against it. it’s honestly frightening how good it is, how good even this feels after his cock has been neglected for the whole scene; every scrape of ed’s shoelaces makes stars behind his eyes, and it’s easy to find a rhythm like this, his face pressed against ed’s leg as he grinds against the leather and the laces. 

“ed,” he says weakly, still rocking his hips. _“please-”_

ed hums, and he strokes roy’s hair off his face with an errant, shaky hand. “you look fuckin’ incredible like that.” 

roy makes a weak noise — words feel heavy and clunky, and why would he ruin a moment like this by trying to talk and utterly, spectacularly failing? — and ed gives a noise in response, a matching hum. “i don’t even have to tell you to put your hands behind your back,” he remarks. “you’re that fucking eager for it.” 

ed tilts his foot up, changes the angle so that the toe of his boot is pressing up against roy’s balls, his taint, and roy keens at that, presses back against it as much as he can in this position without losing his balance. his cock brushes against ed’s boot at a different angle now, new spots that send sparks shooting through him, and he drags his cock in long strokes, from the smooth leather of the tongue down onto the bed of the laces, so rough it was almost too much for him. he’s so hard his cock has started leaking, and roy is keenly aware of the thin, slick strands that smudge on ed’s boot each time he moves. 

“you just need some tough love, huh?” ed muses, a goading edge to his tone. he’s gesticulating with the leash hand, and roy wonders if it’s just to remind him he’s still at ed’s disposal, under ed’s control. “no wonder years of taking pretty girls to expensive dinners didn’t do it for you; those nights never ended like this, did they?” 

“ed, i-” 

“it’s okay,” he continues. “the military cued me into the whole liking men thing pretty early on, but i realize not everyone is that lucky.”

_“ed,_ i don’t know if i can-” 

“you and your gloves got me through my fair share of hasty showers in whatever hostel or dorm we were bunking in,” he says, and it’s amazing how casual he can make it sound, when roy is sweating bullets and dragging his messy cock against ed’s boot like his world would end if he stopped. “it wasn’t the gloves themselves, or even the flame alchemy, it was more just- the power i’d seen you wield in those fuckin’ things, god _damn,_ can you blame me? just a hormonal kid with a few pain and pleasure wires crossed-” 

_“edward.”_

“c’mon, bastard, live a little,” ed chides. “what’s next? you’re gonna call me ‘fullmetal’ again and try to get me to salute?” 

“as if i ever won that one,” roy mumbles, voice weak through his heavy breathing. 

“so don’t start trying now.” ed grinds his heel a little, and the movement reverberates through roy’s body, blissful friction that leaves him gasping. “the past is the past; there’s no harm in enjoying it a little.” 

it’s hard to parse what ed’s saying through the haze of his need— is ed setting up a _moral argument_ at a time like this? — but he doesn’t have long to ponder the question before ed is prompting him again. “the point of all this being that i’ve been thinking about shit like this for quite a while now,” he says. “thinking about you like this, on your knees wearing my collar, all sweaty and flustered and hard for me, making your fucking mess on me.” 

roy’s hips stutter, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even know if he could. he can feel the pressure building in his abdomen, the sparklers behind his eyelids every time the stars align and his cock drags against the length of ed’s boot just right. “jesus, ed,” he whines. 

“getting hard for you, getting wet for you,” ed continues, as nonchalant as if he were rattling off a grocery list. “fucking myself thinking about your chubby little dick filling me up.” 

his imagination gets away from him immediately at that, and he has to shake his head clear because all he can think about is ed with his legs spread jerking off, ed sopping wet and working two fingers inside himself, aching for more. “ed,” he says weakly. “ed, i don’t know if i can-”

“fuck yeah,” ed growls. his eyes meet roy’s and his gaze is hungry, dark. “yeah, you can come for me.” 

roy lets out a shaky exhale at that, tries to relax his shoulders as every muscle in his body wants to tense. he can see his own mess smeared all over ed’s boot, a collage of clear white smudges on the tongue and streaked down on the laces and the toe, and that alone is nearly enough to push him over the edge. 

“you gonna make a mess for me?” ed murmurs, and tights his grip on the leash, pulls it taut and forces roy to meet his eyes. 

it’s like a landslide, a chain reaction that sends a shiver through his entire body, muscles clenching all through his core. roy feels cock throb heavily, once, twice, before he’s able to wrench his eyes away. 

when he does, it’s just in time to see himself make a royal mess of ed’s leg, fat globs of come all over his boot and splattered up onto his pant leg. his pulse is ringing in his ears and his heart is hammering troublingly fast against his chest, and his vision is still star-studded and white at the edges. he’s shaking a little bit still. it feels roughly like he’s been hit by a steam engine, and yet he’d give almost anything to be able to have this every day. 

_“ed,”_ roy says, and his voice is broken, ragged at the edges, jagged breathing wracking his chest. “god, ed, please, can i-” 

“fuck yes,” ed pants, and he’s already pulling at the hem of his pants, the chain of the leash jangling as he moves, and roy’s hands get tangled with his as they grab at the fabric together. roy can feel his hands are shaking — can feel the fog of his orgasm thick and heavy, like a layer of cloud that exists between roy and the outside world — and he tries to steady them as much as he can, concentrating on his grip.

“i got it,” ed murmurs, guides roy’s hands off his as he arches his back and shoves his pants down around his knees. he makes it look easy, even in skin-tight attire. “don’t push yourself too hard.” 

“no such thing,” roy argues, his voice weak, a hand on either of ed’s knees for balance. he can see that ed’s wet, now, can see the shine glinting off ed’s mess even in the dim light, and now that he’s noticed it he can’t seem to look away. _“please,_ ed-”

“please what?” ed sounds almost bored, and it just makes roy ache more. 

“please let me suck you off,” roy says. “want you to use my mouth-” 

ed weaves a hand in roy’s hair and yanks his head down without any more preamble than that, and roy moans, too loud, because ed is _dripping,_ making a mess of roy’s face immediately, slick all over his mouth and dribbling down his chin. he tastes incredible, and roy licks into him with eager flicks of his tongue, tightens his grip on ed’s thighs and tries not to get too dizzy when he thinks about how he made ed turned on like this. 

(there had only been a little bit of awkwardness the first time ed took his pants off, a crash course of terminology to use and avoid and a hands-on demonstration that had ended with ed with his legs spread on roy’s bed, toes curling in the sheets as roy sucked him off between murmurs of “like this, love? or like this.”)

_“fuck,”_ ed whines, urges roy closer with a snap of the leash. _“roy,_ shit-”

roy licks deeper into him, gets the head of ed’s cock in his mouth and sucks hard. ed takes a wheezing breath and roy can’t help but grin to himself, trailing a finger through ed’s mess to tease at his entrance. “may i?”

“you fucking better,” ed grits out, his teeth clenched. 

“delightful,” roy hums, and sinks his finger deeper, deep enough that he can make ed swear softly under his breath. 

he takes ed’s cock back into his mouth, drags the flat of his tongue up the underside and suckles at the head, curls his finger and makes ed whine. part of him wishes he had the patience to drag this out — to tease and talk dirty until ed gets a taste of his own medicine, to edge ed until he’s a whimpering mess — but he thinks ed appreciates it like this, too, appreciates that roy’s learned his body well enough to get him off quick and dirty with lightning strikes behind his eyes. 

roy nudges a second finger in alongside the first, takes a deep breath and takes ed back in his mouth, flicking his tongue against the head of ed’s cock. ed was always so messy when they fucked, and roy could barely hide the way it affected him, the way it automatically made roy’s brain jump to thoughts of ed getting his dick all wet like that. it was dizzying enough like this, with ed’s slick smeared all over his face, his mouth red and swollen from use; he could hardly imagine what it must be like fucking ed like that, his dick all shiny wet and ed so ready for him he’s dripping onto the bed. 

ed moans _“shit_ yeah,” and spreads his legs wider; the shift in angle pushes roy’s fingers sink deeper, as deep as they’ll go, and ed keens at that, throws himself back against roy’s couch and grips at the cushions for some semblance of anchor. 

_“fuck,_ roy,” he says. “so fuckin’ good for me.”

roy hums against him but doesn’t stop what he’s doing, and ed nudges his hips up, bucks into roy’s mouth like he wants more. he pulls off of ed’s cock for a second to lap at ed’s entrance, fucking into him with his tongue between his fingers, and ed swears, “fuck _fuck,_ that’s so good-” 

“yeah?”

“‘the fuck kind of question is that?” ed asks, his breathing coming fast.

roy elects not to answer that.

he licks a hot trail up from between his fingers to the underside of ed’s cock, two fingers still nestled inside him, and ed nearly screams this time when roy takes him into his mouth and starts to suck. _“fuck,”_ ed gasps, “holy shit, roy, i-” 

roy works his mouth like he was born for it, drags his tongue against ed’s head and laps wetly against him, and when ed has dissolved into a barely comprehensive litany of swear words and deities and roy’s name, always roy’s name, roy crooks his fingers hard and strokes his g spot until ed is a shaking, sobbing mess against him. 

he doesn’t stop until ed stops him with a tug of the leash. he can feel ed’s mess on his face, can feel how swollen and used his mouth is, and it’s more embarrassing, now, that the energy from the scene has started to wear off. he’s suddenly self conscious, naked and kneeling between ed’s legs, the room smelling of sex. 

his pulse is still fast, thready, so roy lets his head rest against ed’s thigh. the leash feels heavy against his neck, and his knees are aching. his ass is going to deliciously sore tomorrow, if not outright bruised, and the pain is thrumming just beneath his skin, like a high. 

“you need a minute?” ed hums, reaches out and strokes roy’s hair. 

“not necessary,” roy replies. 

ed laughs, a warm one that came from deep in his chest. “of course you don’t,” he murmurs, and idly wraps a strand of roy’s hair around his finger a few times. 

“get to work, then,” ed says, and shoves his head back down towards the mess he’d made of ed’s boot. “it’s not going to clean itself up.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! gotta promo [my twitter](https://twitter.com/teandfailure) here but otherwise hope yall are holding up okay in this wacky world we're living in.


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